


Find My Way To You

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Established Relationship, F/M, Loneliness, Oral Sex, Romance, Secret Relationship, Separations, Sex, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint sometimes broke S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations when he was bored, but he didn't usually hack into Coulson's files.  That was a pretty big infraction, but he had a pretty desperate reason.  Natasha had been undercover for eight months, and he had to see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find My Way To You

Clint sometimes broke S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations when he was bored or desperate for amusement. He didn't usually hack into Coulson's files, though. That was a pretty big infraction, but he had a pretty desperate reason. Natasha had been undercover for eight goddamn months, and he had to see her.

Logically he knew that it wasn't a good enough reason to risk blowing her cover, but he hadn't heard anything in those eight months, not a damn thing, and he just couldn't take it anymore. His bed was so empty without her; hell, his life was empty without her.

He quickly skimmed the file. She was posing as Claire Nielsen, the new wife of Dr. Sergey Ivanov. Ivanov was the alias of Alexey Koslov, a physicist who had been working on weaponry with HYDRA, but had gotten cold feet and tried to bail. He thought he was in hiding on his own, and that he had met the most wonderful American girl and married her, started a new life, turned over a new leaf, all that shit. He was apparently completely unaware that his lovely Claire was an operative tasked with keeping him safe. They lived in a little town in upstate New York, where he taught physics at a community college.

Posing as his wife. An uncharacteristic surge of ugly jealousy brought heat to his face.

Clint made note of the address and quickly erased all evidence that he had been snooping around in Coulson's files, flicking off the light as he slipped out of the room.

\--

"Hi Claire! Nice day for a jog, isn't it?"

The mail carrier waved, and Natasha waved back. "It sure is!" she called, slowing her pace slightly. "Say hi to Gene for me!"

Smithtown was a pretty nice place, all in all, but Natasha was very ready for this mission to be over. Keeping her cover wasn't difficult, but the constant curiosity of practically every single person in town was taxing, nevermind that playing housewife was exceptionally boring. Thanks to her cover job as a freelance writer, she now knew more cleaning and gardening tips than she ever wanted or needed to know.

Running was about the only time when she felt like herself anymore. She could focus just on her body, on her feet pounding against the pavement, on the air rushing in and out of her lungs, on the burn in her thighs and calves.

She was restless and bored and ready to get back to her own life, even if that life was made up of a patchwork of secrets and assumed identities. Clint was a nice, solid constant, and she missed him like hell.

Picking up her pace, she forced herself to think about something else. Missing Clint felt like a wound that just wouldn't heal, no matter how many band-aids she slapped over it.

She was so intent on thinking about anything other than him that she almost didn't notice Clint leaning against a car parked in front of the library.

For a second, she thought her heart would stop. Then she thought it would pound its way out of her chest as her brain caught up with what her eyes were seeing. She didn't know if she was angry or happy, or if she wanted to throw herself into his arms or kill him for showing up in Smithtown.

Her pace stuttered for a second, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She couldn't talk to him right there, not with the librarians and the waitresses in the cafe across the street watching. But damn him, he raised a hand and now she couldn't not stop.

He was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that was just a little too tight across his chest. His hair was a little blonder than usual, like he had been out in the sun, and to her surprise, he wore a neatly-trimmed goatee. She had never seen him with more than a five o'clock shadow before, and it made him devastatingly handsome.

"Sorry, could you help me?" he said, gesturing with a map in his other hand. "I think I'm lost."

She stopped but kept jogging in place, trying to not glare daggers at him. "You don't have a GPS?" she said. "Where are you trying to go?"

There was a faint smile playing around the corners of his lips, and her heart went back to thumping against her ribs. "Yeah, my stupid GPS died. Is there a motel nearby?" he asked, his eyes skating over her snug t-shirt and gym shorts.

He spread the map out on the hood of his car, and Natasha leaned over it beside him. "There's one on Baker Street," she said, pointing at a spot on the map. "About two miles outside of town."

"I missed you," he whispered, pretending to study the map.

She had to close her eyes for a second to quell the wave of longing that rushed through her body. Lowering her voice, she leaned a little closer to the map. "Get a room at the motel. I'll meet you there tonight," she said.

"Thanks for the directions," he said, running a hand back through his hair so that it stuck up in a way that made her think of long nights tangled together in their bed.

"No problem," she said with a tight-lipped smile.

He got back into his car, and she started jogging again, her mind racing. It was stupid, she knew, and she shouldn't have told him she would meet him. She wanted to see him, but she couldn't risk blowing her cover. She _shouldn't_ risk blowing her cover just to see Clint again.

She had the feeling that emotion would win out over logic.

\--

Sergey kissed her when he got home that evening, but Natasha fended off his advances after dinner, pretending she had a deadline to meet. Luckily for her, Sergey didn't seem too terribly interested in having sex with her all the time. It was the one part of this mission that she had trouble faking interest in.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "I think I will turn in early tonight, Claire," he said, yawning.

"Rough day at work?" she asked as she cleared the dishes off of the table.

"So many exams to grade! I feel my eyes are going to fall out of my head."

He stretched and gave her a smile as he disappeared down the hall. Natasha closed her eyes for a second, trying again to convince herself that she shouldn't go meet Clint. She didn't feel any loyalty to Sergey, other than her responsibility to keep him safe, but it just wasn't smart to sneak out in the middle of the night to meet her lover in a roadside motel, not when she was pretending to be the good little newlywed.

Her office was at the other end of the hall from the bedroom, and she could turn in her seat and see the lamp light underneath the bedroom door. She logged into the encrypted S.H.I.E.L.D. server and tapped out a brief status update. No change in subject's security. No threats to subject's safety. And definitely no S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hanging around town, waiting for her to sneak out of her house.

Logging out, she pulled up her feed reader and browsed until the lamp in the bedroom clicked off. It was just after ten; fifteen minutes later, she could hear Sergey snoring quietly.

She had changed into a black shirt and dark jeans after her jog, and she pulled on a black jacket before slipping out the door. S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided her with a Prius for this mission--the type of car an environmentally conscious woman like Claire Nielsen would drive--and she had never been more grateful that the car was practically silent.

Smithtown was the kind of place that rolled up the sidewalks at 9 pm. There was no one to see her driving out of town on Baker Street. Clint's car was the only one parked at the Star View Motel, another stroke of luck. Natasha parked her Prius behind the building so no one would see it, and took a deep breath. This was stupid, she thought. She knew she should turn around, drive back to the house, keep watch over Sergey until she got the call from HQ.

A memory flashed in her mind unbidden: the last time she and Clint had made love, just before she left for this mission, the hot press of his skin against hers, the heated flood of pleasure, the way he had groaned against her lips when he came.

She was in front of the motel room door without a really clear idea of how she got there.

The door opened before she could knock; he must have been watching for her. Natasha slipped into the room, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one saw. "Clint, you shouldn't be here," she said. "It's not--"

Her back was suddenly against the door, with Clint pressed against her from shoulder to ankle. He turned the deadbolt and then sank his hands into her hair, pulling her mouth against his in a hungry kiss. She fisted her hands in his t-shirt, her body arching against his, and god, it felt so good to have his weight against her.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered when he broke the kiss to suck in a breath.

"Do you want me to leave?" he breathed, brushing his nose against her cheek. "Say the word and I'll go."

She should tell him to go. She knew it was the safest thing to do, to tell him off for endangering her mission and send him packing, but his body was warm and heavy against hers, and _god_ , she had missed him so much. She had missed everything about him, not just his body; she missed his smart-assed comments, the mischievous glint in his eye, the low rumble of his voice.

She caught his lips in another kiss, her hands sliding under his shirt, and he moaned. She wasn't entirely sure how they managed to undress each other without really breaking the kiss, but soon his skin was against hers, the hair on his chest creating a sweet friction against her breasts, his cock hot and hard against her belly.

"I hate the thought of him touching you," he growled against her lips, slipping his hand between her thighs.

His fingers pushed inside of her, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit, and she had to gasp for breath, her head tipping back against the door. He caught her lips in another heated kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and stroking it against hers, and her pussy clenched around his fingers. "Oh god, Clint," she moaned, gripping his biceps to stay upright.

"I want to be the only man who touches you like this," he rumbled, resting his forehead against hers. "I don't want you to come for anyone but me."

It was nearly too much for Natasha to deal with. She was trembling against him as he worked her body, but the sensations he was creating in her body were nothing compared to what was going on in her head and her heart. She had missed him so much that this, being naked in his arms, made her feel like she was drowning in him, and the possessiveness in his words and actions sent fire roaring through her body.

"Just... just you," she panted, canting her hips against his hand. "Only for you, Clint."

He groaned and leaned into her, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her neck and setting his teeth into the tender skin just below her ear. "This is mine," he growled. "This is ours, Tasha, yours and mine. No one else's."

The pleasure coiling in her body suddenly broke loose and she let out a sharp cry, fingers digging into his arms. "Oh god, oh god, Clint," she sobbed, bucking against his hand. "Yours, I'm yours, always yours."

Bending his knees, he lifted her up, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. The bed was just a few steps away, its covers already shoved down, and he carried her away from the door, lowering her onto the cool sheets.

"Need to taste you," he groaned, sliding down her body.

"Wait," she gasped. "Turn... turn around."

Clint rose up onto his knees, his brow furrowed, and Natasha pulled at his hips, maneuvering him so that he lay on his side next to her, his head toward her feet. "Oh," he said, cottoning on and wrapping his hands around her waist.

He pulled her on top of him, tugging her hips up so that he could press an open-mouthed kiss between her legs. Natasha had to press her face against his hip, a shudder working its way through her body at the feel of his tongue dipping into her cunt. Pulling herself together, she pushed herself up on one elbow and wrapped a hand around his erection, stroking it once from root to tip. His groan made her smile, and licking her lips, she swallowed his cock, taking in as much as she could in a single stroke.

At that, he made a guttural sound deep in his throat, his hands gripping her hips tightly. The sound hummed through his tongue against her clit, making her gasp, and then everything blurred into a haze of pleasure, their mouths working each other until they were both trembling. She loved doing this for him, sucking and licking him until his hips jerked in her grip.

"Stop," he groaned, setting his teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh. "Tasha... need you to... stop... Oh god, baby, I'm gonna come..."

Natasha lifted her head, letting him slip out of her mouth. "Isn't that the idea?" she teased, letting her tongue dart out to flick against the head of his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped. "Need... need to come inside you."

Those words sent heat coursing through her, and she pushed herself up onto her hands, intending to turn around and sink down onto him. But he caught her hips, manhandling her until she had turned around to face the headboard, her knees on either side of his head.

Catching her eye, he dragged his tongue over her pussy, pushing the tip inside her for a second before moving up to stroke at her clit. Natasha had to grab the headboard to keep herself upright, her fingertips scrabbling for purchase on the wood veneer. Clint's big hands slid up to grip her ass, holding her against his mouth as he watched her intensely and bore down on her clit with his tongue, flicking harder and harder until she was shaking apart in his grasp.

She collapsed against the headboard, her head resting on her forearms where they were braced against the wall, gasping and sobbing as he made her come. It had been too long, too fucking long since she had felt this way, completely overwhelmed by his touch, his fierce gaze, and his determination to wring every single drop of pleasure from her body.

His tongue delved inside of her again, making her shudder as she bucked against his mouth. Then he guided her to the side so he could sit upright, his back against the headboard with his feet planted against the mattress, before tugging her back into his lap. Sinking her hands into his hair, she kissed him hard, tasting herself on his lips and tongue.

Their first coupling was fast and desperate. Not breaking their kiss, Clint lifted her hips and then brought her back down, spearing her on his cock. Natasha wanted to close her eyes and throw her head back, but she didn't want to miss a single expression on his face. Drawing back to gasp for breath, she started grinding on him, pressing her body against his, working herself on him.

He brought his hands up to frame her face, his fingers gentle against her cheeks, a sharp contrast to his hips jerking up to meet hers. Emotion was welling up inside of her, making her throat feel tight, but sensation overrode it for the moment. She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, and it didn't take long for her to reach another peak, writhing against him and crying out his name.

His arms locked around her back, and he kissed her desperately, gripping her skin hard enough to bruise as he held her in place, bucking his hips up into her. She grasped his shoulders and watched his eyes darken, his expression grow more and more strained, until he gasped and gathered her close, pushing her down hard on his cock.

"Oh god, Tasha!" he groaned, pressing his forehead against hers. "Tasha..."

He jerked inside of her, filling her with wet heat, and then he clung to her as if he were afraid to let go. Natasha locked her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, feeling him shiver against her body, and she knew she was trembling, too. For a long, long moment, they stayed wrapped around each other, bodies still joined intimately, their breath mingling.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers.

Natasha's eyes burned suddenly, and her throat was tight again, and she had to close her eyes for fear she would cry. Clint cupped her face, his hands so warm against her skin, and she had to open her eyes. "I've missed you, too," she whispered back.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and he brushed them away with his thumbs, leaning forward to kiss her gently.

The second time they made love was slower, much slower. He rolled her onto her back and settled between her legs, dropping his head down to her breasts, rubbing his face against her skin. His goatee brushed against the sensitive skin of her nipples, wrenching a gasp from her lips, and she pulled him up to her mouth, kissing him deeply.

"Oh god, I missed this," he breathed, bracing his knees against the bed and sinking into her again.

Natasha could only cry out in reply, gripping his back. He hitched her legs up around his ribs, seating himself more deeply inside of her, and her head tipped back at the sensation. Clint buried his face in her neck, his lips hot against her skin, and he groaned softly. Even that low sound sent a shudder of pleasure through her body, and she drew in a shaky breath, stroking his back.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, holding her body against his, and began to thrust into her, each move of his hips agonizingly deliberate. His gaze was intense, so intense that she could almost feel it, and she arched up to kiss him, catching his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Tasha," he moaned, dipping down to plunder her mouth in another kiss.

Spreading his knees a little wider, he pushed in deep, his groin pressed firmly against hers, and he began to slowly rock his hips. A low cry escaped her throat, and her hands drifted down to the small of his back, thumbs dipping into the two dimples there.

Pleasure began to coil low in Natasha's body again, and she braced her heels against the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to grind harder against her, begging him with her body to bring her off, to make her come so hard that she forgot about everything but him.

He held her shoulder in a tight grip and pressed his weight down on her, pinning her between his hard body and the mattress. She gripped his ass, fingers digging into the strong muscles, and they moved together with increasing desperation. His face was slack with pleasure, his eyes half-closed and his lips parted, and Natasha pressed her lips to his collarbone, licking the salt from his skin and drinking in his low moan.

One hand moved down to grasp her hip, and even though it had been months since they had done this, their bodies remembered exactly how to wring every shiver and gasp from each other. It felt like no time had passed at all since the last time they had tangled their bodies together, and yet she could also feel the ache of so many months apart.

His hips rocked in just the right way and Natasha cried out his name, burying her face in his shoulder and shuddering helplessly underneath his body.

"Tasha... oh fuck, Tasha," he groaned and went stiff, coming deep inside of her again.

It took a long moment for them to catch their breath, and Clint finally slipped out of her, making her groan at the sudden emptiness. He shifted his weight off of her and rested his head on her breast, gently stroking over her stomach and down her hip. Natasha caught his roaming hand and threaded her fingers through his, sinking her other hand into his hair, and they lay there together for a long while, breathing together.

Even though he was pressed against her side from head to foot, she still wished she could pull him even closer. She wanted to sink into his skin and never leave him again.

"I know this was stupid," he said into the comfortable silence. "I have no business endangering your mission. I just... I had to see you. Eight months is too goddamn long."

Natasha stroked her fingertips across the back of his hand. "It was stupid," she agreed and felt him tense a little against her. "But that's okay. I shouldn't have taken this mission. I'm wasted on babysitting duty, and... eight months is too goddamn long."

His body relaxed again, and he sighed, his breath warm against her skin. "Can you stay?" he whispered, pressing a kiss against her skin.

She stared up at the ceiling and sighed. "I shouldn't. But I don't want to leave."

Clint pushed himself upright, and she watched him curiously as he got up and padded over to the dresser. "I'll set an alarm," he said, holding up his phone. "What time does Koslov wake up?"

"Seven. And how do you know his real name?" she asked with a huff of laughter.

"Hacked into Coulson's files," he replied with a grin, and Natasha whistled.

"He's going to kill you when he finds out," she said, watching him fiddle with the alarm. "And you know he always finds out."

"I'll deal with that problem when it happens," he said, putting the phone on the bedside table and crawling back into bed with her. "Right now, I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms."

She let him gather her up in his arms, and he pulled the covers up over their bodies before flicking off the lamp. A little light filtered through the edge of the drapes, and she could just see his face in the gloom. Tugging her hand out from under the sheets, she stroked his cheek and traced her fingertip over the line of his goatee. "I like this," she whispered.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "It's pretty sexy, isn't it? I grew it just for you. Knew it would get you hot."

She smirked back at him, leaning in for a kiss. "I love you, Clint," she murmured, cuddling close to his body.

"Oh baby," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her and tangling his legs with hers. "I love you, too."

If she had gone into this thinking that one night with him would be enough, she realized then that she had been wrong. Falling asleep in his arms, her body pleasantly aching from their lovemaking, just made her miss him even more.

She had no idea what she would do in the morning.

\--

It's still dark when Natasha pulls back into the garage. The alarm had gone off at four, and Clint had followed her into the shower, making love to her again under the spray of hot water.

She'd had to park on the side of the road a mile away from the motel to pull herself together.

Her plan was to slip into bed silently, and Koslov... Sergey wouldn't even notice that she had been gone. He was a deep sleeper, and Natasha often left the bed in the middle of the night without waking him.

Unfortunately nothing went according to plan.

She slipped into the dark house, moving silently through the kitchen. When she stepped into the living room, the lamp clicked on.

Her hand automatically went for the gun that wasn't in the back waistband of her jeans. Sergey was sitting in the armchair, dark circles under his eyes and a dark expression on his face.

"Where have you been, Claire?" he asked. "And why is your hair wet?"

Natasha quickly gauged the situation. Koslov wasn't violent, nor did she expect him to be. But unless she could come up with a damn good excuse for coming into the house at five in the morning with damp hair, her cover would be blown, and Coulson wouldn't be the only one after her blood. Fury would probably skin her alive and stake her hide out in front of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ to warn off other agents.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, schooling her expression to innocence. "So I decided to go for a jog. It rained on me while I was out. Sergey, what's--"

Koslov's face crumpled a little. "You went jogging in jeans and your boots?" he said, gesturing at her clothes. "And I did not hear it rain. I have been awake all night."

For the first time in her life, Natasha couldn't think of another lie. The silence was suffocating, and she did her best to keep her expression neutral. He rose from the chair and took a few steps toward her.

"Alice, the mail carrier, she said you spoke with a man this afternoon," Sergey said, and the bottom of Natasha's stomach dropped; she silently cursed small towns and their gossipy inhabitants. "She said he asked you for directions, but that she had walked past him just before and he said nothing to her. Claire, who is this man?"

She didn't answer, and he moved closer, trying to reach out for her. He froze, though, and stared at her, his expression going angry and hurt. "There is a mark on your neck," he bit out, staggering back a little, and Natasha's hand moved of its own accord; Clint must have left a bruise that she didn't notice.

"Goddammit," she muttered under her breath.

"Claire, where were you tonight? Who is this man?"

Natasha's phone chimed in her pocket, and she slipped it out. It wasn't her normal ringtone, and that set her on edge; it was Coulson. For a second, she wondered if he was secretly a telepath or some damn thing, because how else could he have known about her royal fuck up so quickly?

Sergey's eyes narrowed at her, but she ignored him and tapped in her S.H.I.E.L.D. passcode, letting her forefinger linger on the screen so it could read her biometrics, opening up Coulson's message.

"Claire, damn it, answer me!" Sergey said.

The message was short:

_K position compromised. Subdue and bring home._

It felt like someone had flipped a switch; her body was suddenly thrumming with adrenaline, and her focus sharpened. Sergey took another step toward her, and she flicked her wrist, aiming the phone at him and pressing the volume down button.

A tiny tranquilizer dart shot out of the headphone jack and embedded itself in the skin of his neck. He had a second to stare at her in horror before he dropped to the carpet, unconscious.

She thumbed a reply to Coulson:

_Acknowledged. Send in the maids._

And then she dragged Sergey out to the Prius, carefully arranging him in the backseat. Before backing out of the driveway, she sent another message, this one to Clint:

_Get your ass back to NY. Got a call. Playtime's over._

\--

Natasha didn't feel any loyalty to Koslov other than her task to protect him, but it was still intensely uncomfortable to have to tell him that Claire Nielsen didn't exist and that she had simply been protecting him.

He cried. Normally Natasha would take a sort of unhealthy pleasure in making a grown man cry, but this just hit too close to home. "I'm very sorry, Dr. Koslov," she said, fighting to keep her face expressionless. "S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to keep you safe and keep you ignorant of HYDRA's movements. Agent Kirkland will take you to your quarters, and your future protection options will be explained to you later today."

She turned on her heel and left the holding room, not stopping until she was in an empty corridor. There, she leaned against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. The mission had been terrible, a terrible idea from the start, and she wished like hell she had refused it when Coulson dropped the file on her desk. She had enough seniority to pick and choose her missions. But at the time, she thought that refusing would pique Coulson's curiosity, and she and Clint were determined to keep prying eyes off of their relationship. So she accepted, and then she lost eight months of her life living a lie with a poor asshole who hadn't the faintest clue he was being played, even if it was for his own protection.

She felt like a shitty excuse for a human being.

She hadn't seen Clint at HQ, but she knew he drove faster than she could in her little hybrid sedan. He had to be around somewhere. It was a bad idea to go find him so quickly after they'd both arrived at HQ, but she really didn't think adding one more bad idea to the pile would make it topple over any faster.

Her phone chimed, and she glanced down to see a message from Coulson, requesting her presence in his office in five minutes. "Debriefing," she muttered to herself. "Great."

But when she stepped into Coulson's office, it was to find Clint sitting in one of the two uncomfortable chairs, staring pointedly at the back wall. "...Sir?" Natasha said cautiously.

Coulson looked up from a file. "Close the door please, Agent Romanoff," he said, and Natasha did as he asked. "Have a seat."

Clint didn't look at her when she sat down beside him, but she could tell what kind of silence this was. This was his "covering my ass" silence, and she followed his lead, presenting Coulson with a unified front of expressionless neutrality.

"So," Coulson said, his voice pleasantly bland as usual. "How long have the two of you been lovers?"

Natasha's back stiffened involuntarily, and Clint shifted beside her, his gaze flicking to her for a split second before focusing on Coulson. "Sorry, sir?" he said, and she could feel the tension thrumming in his body even from where she sat.

Coulson very nearly rolled his eyes. "Please, agents," he said. "I've known the two of you for a very long time, and I can only think of one reason why Barton would hack into my files and endanger a long-term undercover mission."

His eyes briefly dropped to her neck, and Natasha tried her best not to flick her hair over the bruise Clint had left there. There was something... almost sympathetic in Coulson's expression. It was subtle, very subtle, and she didn't think Clint had noticed it. But Natasha was good at reading people, and like Coulson said, they had known each other for a long time. 

She swallowed the urge to hurl an "I told you so" at Clint and decided to throw all caution to the wind. "Four years," she said, and Clint jerked in surprise.

Sighing, Coulson made a note on the file in front of him and then leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap.

"So..." Clint said into the silence. "What? What now?"

Coulson kept silent for another moment, probably to draw out the tension. Clint was already fidgeting, and it got to the point where Natasha was losing her cool. If she was going to lose her job or go to prison or whatever Coulson had in mind, she would rather just get it over with instead of sitting here under his gaze like a teenager who had been caught sneaking in after curfew, no matter what sympathy she thought she had seen in his face.

"I wish you had told me this earlier," Coulson finally said, frowning a little.

That was the absolute last thing she had expected him to say. Natasha narrowed her eyes a little bit and watched him carefully. Clint, on the other hand, fell back on sarcasm. "Relationships between agents are frowned upon," Clint said. "Why would we want to tell you? So we could get fired a little sooner?"

"No," Coulson said, steepling his fingers. "If I had known, I never would have recommended Natasha for that mission."

Clint sat up straight beside her, and Natasha furrowed her brow, staring at Coulson. "I'm sorry?" she said, running his tone and expression through her head over and over, trying to make sense of this situation.

"That is not a mission that I would have assigned to an agent in a long-term relationship. If I had known, I would not have put you in that position, Natasha."

She and Clint exchanged a glance, and the anxiety that had been building since she had first seen Clint in Smithtown abruptly banked, leaving her feeling a little shaky. She couldn't quite believe that Coulson had reacted this way, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Neatly closing the file folder on his desk, Coulson gave them a small smile. "Agent Romanoff, your full debriefing is scheduled for 1500 hours," he said. "Have a nice day, agents."

\--

Their next undercover mission came in two weeks after the meeting with Coulson. They were to pose as a newly married couple while investigating the disappearance of a Japanese nuclear scientist in Tahiti.

Coulson gave them that same small smile as they left HQ.


End file.
